The Day of Paul's Conversion
by LadyofSpain
Summary: Paul has an argument with his family. Jacob comes to talk to him. Paul is drunk. They fight. Jacob drags him to his sister Rachel to clean him up. He reveals why he's so angry in a heartwrenching confession. It's up to her to soothe the beast in his soul.


The Day of Paul's Conversion

**By Lady of Spain**

**Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight.**

**A/N:** This O/S originally included the lyrics to _I Want to Know What Love Is_ by Foreigner. This was an 80's Ballad prompt for a contest. The lyrics are removed to comply with the fanfiction guidelines.

* * *

><p>"C'mon, sweetheart, we'll be late for dinner. The reservation's for 7 o'clock. Bella's already here to babysit, so we need to go."<p>

Tonight was our anniversary, not of our wedding, but of my conversion. Chelle and I have been together for four years now and I count them as the best years of my life. And to think, it almost didn't happen. If it weren't for that Good Samaritan—Jacob Black— I'd still be _Mad Dog_ Etcity, the most volatile wolf in the pack. I can remember that day so clearly; it still brings tears to my eyes. I know what you're thinking—big, bad, tough, Paul getting all misty. It surprises me too. At one time I was so full of anger that I couldn't shed a single tear, but that was before Chelle _happened_.

I remember that morning as if it was only yesterday; I was 17 at the time, and she was

20 . . .

I had just gotten off patrol—six hours of fruitless running around. We were never going to corner that vicious redhead. What a waste of my time! It was 4 AM and I was beat. I lay down on the couch in my clothes; I was too tired to move. My bedroom seemed miles away.

At 6 AM my older brother, Nathan, jostled me awake. "Get up, Paul. You didn't take the damn garbage out again and the back garden didn't see a drop of water either. You were supposed to finish your chores last night. I'm not doing your work; I have enough of my own. Now get up!"

My eyes were probably bloodshot; they felt like someone had rubbed them with sandpaper. I turned over, irritated. "I'll do it later, Nathan. I'm tired. Now leave me alone!"

"No. How about doing it now, Paul?" He kicked me in the back with his foot.

"I said . . . I would do it _later_!" The words spewed out from between my clenched teeth.

"You angry, worthless, hothead!" He yanked one of my legs, tossing me off the couch and onto the wood floor.

That tore it. Hothead? I'd show him a hothead. It was all I could do to rein in my anger and restrain myself from phasing. This house wasn't big enough to contain me and my _wolf_.

I was beyond pissed. I jumped up from the floor knocking over one of the living room chairs in my hurry to get to him. I grabbed Nathan by the hair and let my fist land a punch between his shoulder blades. He turned quickly, grabbed an iron skillet off the stove and swung at me. My reflexes were faster and he missed me by a mile. But I connected. My knuckles found his big mouth, and left it split open and bleeding. By this time my mother came downstairs, awakened by the commotion. Nathan and I were still at it—now rolling on the floor.

Mom pulled us apart, cursing at me. "Someone want to tell me what's going on?"

Nathan roared, "I told him he needed to take out the garbage. He attacked me, the freakin' hothead!"

"You _conveniently_ left out the part where you pulled me off the couch and tossed me onto the floor," I countered.

She repeated my words, mocking me. "He-threw-you-on-the-floor. Somehow, I find that hard to believe, Paul. Whenever there's a fight, you're always the instigator. Now you go take out the garbage and clean your brother up."

"He's a big boy; he can clean himself up. And I'll take out the garbage later if I feel like it. I've been out all night patrolling. I'm going to bed. See ya!"

"How do I know that's where you've been or, for that matter, what you've been doing?"

"What do you care?" I snarled at her.

"Don't talk to me like that! I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Your father's gone. How am I supposed to discipline you? You're sullen, ungrateful and a raving lunatic most of the time."

"Oh, so I'm the lunatic? If it wasn't for me, Dad would have beaten you to death. Why you put up with him all those years is beyond me. And if I had a nickel for every bruise and cigarette burn he gave _me_, I'd be a millionaire."

"He was trying his best to discipline you."

"Get real, Mom. It started when I was three—what was his excuse then, huh? You let him beat the crap out of the both of us. I was trying to protect you!"

"You nearly killed him, Paul. I'll never forgive you for driving him away. You should have gone instead—I wish you had. I have no man now, thanks to you."

"Go to hell!" I screamed at her.

She picked up a heavy book from a nearby shelf and flung it at me, catching my left eye. It stung like a son-of-a-gun. My body was beginning to vibrate. I bolted out the front door, slamming it shut behind me. I knew I had to get out of there before I hauled off and punched her or, worse yet phased and attacked my own mother.

I ran down the road, careening clear through the tree line, sat down and waited. When I was sure they were both on their way to work, I returned to the house. The door was locked, so I gained entrance through my bedroom window. I lay back down on the couch, but my adrenaline was racing through my veins at a mile a minute. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn't calm down enough to sleep.

* * *

><p>I knew my mom had some whiskey hidden in one of the cabinets. I searched until I found it and helped myself to the bottle. I really needed what my ol' man referred to, as a snootful, to give me the buzz I desperately needed.<p>

I was already half crocked when I heard knocking at the door. It was Mr. Sunshine himself, Jacob Black—the model citizen— everyone's friend and champion. I was in no

mood to see or hear him, but the knocking went on, annoying me to no end.

"I know you're in there, Paul. Your mom called Sam, and he wants me to talk to you. Now c'mon and open up this stupid door."

Against my better judgment, I went to the door and cracked it open an inch. "Go away, Jake," I croaked, my words slurring.

His eyes blazed intensely. I thought they were going to bore a hole through my skull.

"Dammit, Paul, I want to help you."

"I don't need your help, Sunny boy. Go spread your rainbows someplace else."

Jake stepped away from the threshold and turned as if to go. I closed the door.

After taking another swig from the bottle, I staggered back to the kitchen alighting on one of the wooden chairs. I had just put my head down on the table when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, I fell sideways, dragging the chair down on top of me.

I looked up from the floor at the tall figure towering above me. "Damn, Jake, you scared the hell out of me! How'd you get in here anyway?"

He peered down at me, disgust apparent on his face. "Back window, same as you."

"Well, go back out the way you came in. I told you I don't want or need any of your help." _Damn Good Samaritan_. _Why didn't the big Boy Scout go find an old lady to help cross a street?_

"I can see that. You have all the help you need right inside that bottle, huh? The cure for all your fears and disappointments."

I answered him between clenched teeth. "Shut up, Jake! Go back to your near perfect life. Not all of us have a reason to be as happy as you are."

"And this bottle is gonna make your life perfect, is it?"

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I finally made it to my unsteady feet. "MYOB, Sunny. Don't I hear Bella calling you?"

I reached out for the Seagram7. Jake snatched it away.

"I don't believe you, Paul. Will you just look at yourself? You're a pitiful excuse for a pack member. The younger guys look up to you, and here you are, pouring poison down your throat. The council bans drinking on the rez. You know that. We're all too sensitive to alcohol. Do you want that stuff to ruin your life?"

"You can't ruin a life that's already down the toilet," I grumbled.

Jake was getting pissed. "What's stuck in your craw this time, Etcity?"

"Everyone hates me, okay? Now give me that bottle and get the hell out of here!"

Waving the bottle in the air, he taunted, "Not a chance. You want it? Come and get it!"

Jake started to leave with the bottle still in his hand. I lunged at him, but Jake was quicker than I was, and obviously steadier on his feet. I could admit I would have been at a disadvantage even if I had been sober. He had it all; the speed, the agility, the strength and the size. He also had the respect and love of the tribe.

In the blink of an eye, Jake poured my _cure_ onto the ground outside the front door. I was literally seeing red and I lit into him with hands fisted. We both sailed through the door, phasing on the fly. We were at each others throats. Jake took a chunk out of one of my cheeks. I retaliated with claw marks along his trunk and a nip at his ankle. I surrendered reluctantly as he had me pinned down, his canines mere inches from the pulsing artery in my neck. I couldn't get up off the ground. Jake had to drag me bodily to his house.

* * *

><p>The numbness from the whiskey was starting to wear off as he half-carried me through the door and dumped me on his couch.<p>

"Rachel," he yelled. "Got a present for you!"

Chelle sauntered out of her room and stopped short at the sight of us.

"Good lord, you two look like you've been through a war. Jacob, take Billy with you to the Clearwaters' and stay there a couple hours. Bella and Leah can take care of you. Leave Paul here. He and I have some serious issues to discuss."

Good boy that he is, Jake wheeled Billy out of the house and trotted on over to see Bella and get himself cleaned up.

"I'm sorry Jake pulled you into the middle of this. I don't expect you to play nursemaid. I'll go if you want me to."

"You can barely stand, Paul. You're not going anywhere. Wanna tell me what happened?"

"What's it look like? Jacob gave me a royal pounding."

"Jacob?" she asked, as she walked into the bathroom. She gathered up some first aid supplies and added, "That doesn't sound like him."

She knelt down in front of me, as I answered. "No, of course not. It's always my fault; I start _all_ the fights. That's why everyone avoids me like the plague. You all hate me."

"I didn't say that."

"It's true, isn't it? You're my imprint Chelle, and you're not _fond_ of me either. Hell, you don't even find me attractive."

Chelle looked at me with surprise. "I don't hate you, Paul."

"You don't want me—same thing!"

"That's _not_ the same thing. And, contrary to your assumptions, I do find you _very_ attractive. I just said I had to think about it. What's wrong with that?"

My frustration was building inside my gut. "Answer me this then—how many other imprints had to think about it?"

She stared straight into my soul, concern for me filling her glistening dark eyes. Being my imprint, undecided or not, she could still feel the hurt bottled up inside of me.

"I can't answer that . . . For now, I need you to hold still while I clean this gash on your cheek. When that's done, I'm going to put some ice on that black eye too. Boy, Jake sure did a number on you."

"He didn't do it," I offered flatly.

"You're kidding! Well then who did?"

"My mom."

Chelle shook her head in utter shock. "Your mother?" she gasped. "What about these other bruises—the ones on your shoulder and arms?"

"Nathan."

"I don't get it." She had a puzzled expression on her face.

"What don't you get, Chelle? I told you, no one can stand me . . . especially my own family."

Chelle breathed heavily. I could tell she was incensed. She quietly dabbed at my cheek with a rag she had dipped in soap and water, and gently spread some ointment on the cut. Then she cleaned the spot near my eye, placing a couple of steri strips over the gash to hold it together. Her face was just inches away from mine. I could feel her warm breath as it washed over me. She was so beautiful. If only . . .

Chelle left my side to get the ice from the kitchen. She wrapped it in a wet dish towel and held it to my swollen eye. She placed my hand over the makeshift ice bag to secure it.

"I'm going to make you some coffee," she said matter-of-factly.

"Don't bother; I'm leaving."

"Paul, I can't let you leave this house in your condition. If any of the council members see you like this, you'll be in serious trouble. You know their stand against alcohol."

"Why are you covering for me, Chelle?"

"Because I care about you, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't want your damn pity."

"What _do_ you want, Paul?" As the words fell from her lips, she realized she had made a mistake. Her face betrayed the full meaning of her hasty words, much to her dismay. She knew damn well what I wanted—what I needed—what only she could give me.

"You know the answer to that better than I do." My voice was just above a whisper. It surprised me.

"I guess I deserved that." She stood up and walked into the other room.

I can't explain why, but I stayed seated and waited for her to make the coffee.

Chelle yelled from the kitchen, "I'm not a coffee drinker myself, but what do you want in yours?"

"I never drink that stuff either—too bitter. I guess just put some milk and sugar in it."

Chelle handed me the mug, and I hesitantly took a sip. It didn't taste _too_ awful.

"Go on, drink up," she encouraged me.

"I don't really need this, my buzz is already gone."

"Do you mind telling me about your other wounds?" She sat so close to me that our shoulders touched. A few tresses of her long brown hair slipped down from her shoulder, trickling onto the skin at my neck.

I looked over at her as if she was crazy. "What are you talking about? You saw all of them. You're the one that fixed them up."

"I'm your imprint, remember? I can feel your emotions and you're in excruciating pain, maybe not physical pain, but pain nonetheless. Otherwise you wouldn't be defying the ruling of the council by drinking. I can sense it. Your heart is aching. It's trying so hard to reach out for some comfort, but you won't let it. You keep all this heartache wrapped up in a neat little bundle of anger. No one is avoiding you; you're pushing them away. They're afraid of you."

My voice cracked. "Are _you_ afraid of me, Chelle? I don't want you to be."

"I was, but not anymore." I could tell she was being sincere.

"What changed your mind?" I really wanted to know.

"You being here today. I feel like I'm just beginning to understand where you're coming from."

"Then I'm glad Jake dragged me over here." Did I mean what I just said?

"Now, I want you to tell me what started all this business with my brother. Can you do that?"

"Sure, but I don't think you want to hear this."

"Try me."

She knelt at my feet, removed the cup from my grasp, and placed it on the coffee table. She stroked my arm lightly and took my hand in both of hers, gazing at me with understanding.

I looked down at her hands wrapped around my own. With quivering lips, I managed to choke out, "No one has touched me like this in years . . . no one. I've gotten used to being punched or slapped around. You're the first person to even want to listen to what I have to say . . . I'm always being shot down.

"I have no one, Chelle, no one to talk to. Jacob has Bella, Sam has Emily, and even Leah has a mother to listen to her. I'm all alone." I looked away from her for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm always on my own.

"Do you know the thing that really hurts the most? My own pack brothers call me names behind my back. They think I don't hear it. They call me _Mad Dog_ Etcity—_Mad Dog_! I pretend that it doesn't bother me, but it does. It's just one more thing to add to my misery."

"I'm so sorry." She squeezed my hand gently. "I didn't know. So, now can you tell me what happened today? What was it that made you go looking for that bottle?"

"I was upset."

"You're always upset and so angry. I want to understand why. Talk to me,

Paul . . .please?"

"Have you got a year to spare?" It was hard for me to let go of a lifetime of sarcasm.

"We've got plenty of time. I'm here for you. Now go on, tell me."

I put the ice pack on the table and looked down at the floor. "Okay." I let a sigh escape. "I was out patrolling all night; Nathan woke me up and told me to take out the garbage. Can you believe that? I only had two hours of sleep, so I ignored him. He pulled me off the couch and threw me on the floor. We got into a fight and my mother blamed me for it."

I glanced up at Rachel for a second, meeting her liquid brown eyes. They were filled with compassion. She smiled and nodded, encouraging me to continue.

Hesitating again, I swallowed hard, choking back the lump in my throat. I let out another big breath and began the rest of my miserable life story.

"I've never told this to anyone before, but she despises me for saving her from my dad. He used to beat me. It started when I was around three years old. He would rough her up really good at least once a week too, more if he had enough money to get drunk. I always had welts on my back and legs from his belt—I still have the scars to prove it. She took him back time after time; she even sided with him against me. I was too little to fight so what could I do? I just put up with the beatings."

Peering at Chelle, I could see the look of sympathy on her beautiful face. She stroked my arm once more, and the words began to pour out of me.

"One day, I heard her crying out. Her face was bruised and bleeding and he just kept on beating her. I was barely fifteen at the time, and I was bigger than him by then. I'd had enough of his bullying. I couldn't watch him slap her around anymore. I snapped and began to pound on him. He knew he could never get away with it from then on, so he left and never came back. She reminds me every day that she wished I had gone instead. She blames me for his leaving and so does Nathan."

I stopped—trying to keep my emotions under control. Chelle could sense how hard this was for me.

She never once took her eyes away from my face. She sounded genuinely concerned, as she said, "It's okay, Paul, I'm listening."

My voice was close to cracking as I began again. "They never talk to me except to yell or curse at me. Nathan likes to use me for his own personal punching bag too. I've got nowhere to go . . . so I guess I'll have to endure the abuse for as long as I can stand it."

I turned my eyes up to her, and a tear escaped. I brushed it away quickly, hoping she had missed it. What I didn't expect were the tears welling up in _her_ eyes. Those tears were the first ever being shed for me.

Chelle released my hand. She reached up and placed both of hers on either side of my face. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of her soft hands on my cheeks. Suddenly, and to my utter amazement, her lips were touching mine. My first kiss!

No girl had ever touched me, let alone kissed me. I guessed they _were_ scared to death. I knew they appreciated my good looks and buff body, but my anger kept them at arm's length. If I just looked at a girl, she ran in the opposite direction.

It was hard to believe; I was being _kissed_ by Chelle. "Open your mouth a little, Paul. It'll be better. Trust me," she whispered.

I did as I was told. I had nothing to compare her lips to; I didn't need to. Like I said, I had never kissed a girl before, but kissing Chelle was like heaven.

My mouth moved with every whim of hers. Our lips melded together effortlessly. She fisted my hair and pulled me closer. That did it. I lost all control of my emotions. What magical spell was she casting over me? My arms encircled her shoulders. Our breaths came in short gasps.

She leaned away from me for a moment, and I was devastated, but then she gazed at me with her ebony eyes now shimmering with desire. "Come with me, Paul," she said.

Confused, I asked her, "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe; someplace you belong." Her voice was low and breathy.

She took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom.

* * *

><p>I was a little nervous; I had never been with a woman before. Somehow, knowing that she had some experience was comforting. I was trembling like a leaf as I let her unbutton my shirt. She directed my hands to her blouse so I could do the same to her. The whole scene was like a dream; so surreal. She turned me around and let her hands gently caress the marks my father's belt had left there so long ago. Chelle's lips glided over the scars on my back, washing away the memory of those beatings. She planted light kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck, making me shudder all the more. She turned me toward her, and ruffling her fingers through my hair, brought our mouths together once again. I heard several loud moans. It took me awhile to realize they were coming from me.<p>

She slowly removed the rest of our clothes and soon they were laying strewn about the floor. My belligerent façade was stripped away along with them.

I had never seen anything as beautiful as Chelle, standing naked before me. I followed as she led me to the bed. We lay beside each other. The feel of her bare skin, flush against mine sent tingles down my spine. Entwined in each other's arms, I luxuriated in the closeness of her. I was keenly aware of her scent, her heartbeat, her every breath, the soft feel of her skin and hair. My senses were flooded with the sheer power of her presence.

I thought my heart would burst, overflowing with these powerful feelings of pure love. Tears were threatening to spill as I realized that someone found me worthy of that love too.

She walked me step by step in the intricacies of love making. The physical release was enough in itself, but it was the emotional rush that totally overwhelmed me. I absolutely came undone.

I was part of her; she was part of me. As we lay still—in each other's arms, she whispered, "I love you, Paul." In that instant I was born anew. I was no longer "Mad Dog" Etcity; I was Paul, the besotted lover of his Rachel.

Love and tenderness stirred in my soul. All my anger and frustration melted away. Peace and comfort settled on my heart, soothing the hurt and sense of rejection that had plagued me for years.

Chelle loved me. I could endure anything the world had to throw at me now. She loved me—me, Paul Etcity. I was finally complete and whole. I didn't have to lash out at anyone ever again. Was this what it felt like to be happy? The emotion was almost foreign to me, but my heart greedily welcomed it.

I was ashamed to let her know how truly vulnerable I was feeling right then. But, I was unable to hold back the tears any longer and I began to weep uncontrollably. Rachel clung to me tightly. "It's okay, Paul," she crooned. "Shh . . . let it go, shh . . .."

When my tears stopped flowing, she laid my head on her soft breast and stroked my hair until I was claimed by exhaustion. I fell into a dead sleep for the first time in weeks.

* * *

><p>I barely heard Jake and Billy come back home—I was under so deeply. It was hours later when I woke to the sounds of Chelle arguing with Jacob.<p>

"What the hell, Rachel? He's in your bed, naked as a newborn! Do you know how that looks?"

"It's _exactly_ how it looks," she touted. "Take it or leave it! I'm a grown woman. It was my decision. I decided to accept the imprint. I love him, Jacob. I don't know why or how—it just—it just snuck up on me. You're going to have to accept it because he's going to be part of our family."

The arguing continued while I climbed out of the bed and back into my clothes. Still a little groggy from sleep, I stumbled into the bathroom to relieve myself.

Jake spotted me on the way out. He caught my shy attempt at a smile. Grasping for something to say, he came up with, "I guess you'll be staying for supper, huh?"

I scratched my disheveled hair and replied, "I don't think I've been invited yet."

Chelle swung her head in my direction and retorted, "You're invited."

"Just leave some for the rest of us. We all know how you eat," Jake warned.

I agreed with him. "Sure, Jake, but I'm not the only one here who likes to eat."

"And by that smile on your face, I'm betting you've already had _your_ dessert!"

"Jacob!" Chelle chastised.

"It's all right, Chelle, He's your brother. He's just trying to protect you from the big bad wolf. I can appreciate that he's upset. I would be too, if you were my sister."

"You don't have to take the fall on this one, Paul. I'm the guilty party here. I dragged you into bed with me; _I_ stole _your_ innocence."

"Don't leak that to the rest of the pack! Anyway, it wasn't like I was putting up any kind of resistance." I couldn't help grinning as I added, "I was a thoroughly active participant."

Chelle gazed at me, her dark eyes smoldering. "Yes you were, handsome—_very_ thorough." Chelle flitted to my side, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. Our moans filled the tiny space in the living room.

Jake leaned over holding onto his gut. I overheard him mutter, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Billy wheeled in at that moment. "Damn, what did I miss?"

"Paul and Rachel are in _love_," Jake answered with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Oh, is that all? Welcome to the family, Paul."

The three of us looked at him expectedly.

He put out his hands, and shrugged, "Whaaat?" Then he added, "Well it's about time, isn't it? You two imprinted quite a while ago. Anyway, is supper ready yet? I'm hungry."

* * *

><p>Dinner went smoothly. Jake and Chelle never once mentioned my battle with the bottle this morning. I decided that it didn't ever need to happen again. It was nice listening to their light conversation—quite a contrast to the jibes and cursing I would have sat through at home. Most of the time, I grabbed some food and hightailed it to some secluded spot to avoid the unpleasantness. I wasn't looking forward to what awaited me at the house.<p>

"So, Paul, shouldn't you be heading on home about now?" Jacob smirked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Chelle. I probably should be heading back."

"I'm not letting you go back there," she announced in an unrelenting tone.

Jacob looked like he was choking on a fish bone. "You're not thinkin' of him stayin' here are you?"

"Well, now that you mention it . . . that's a great idea."

"Rachel, have you lost your mind? There's not enough room in this house. Where's he gonna sleep?"

She looked over at Billy. "Cover your ears, Dad.

"Grow up, Jake, isn't it obvious? I've got a double bed. He can share it with me. It gets pretty cold in my room at night. I could stand a little heat in the early morning hours."

Billy sat there, seemingly amused, with his hands over his ears. Both of his hands came down after Chelle finished her comment.

"Well aren't you gonna chip in and say something, Dad?" Jacob was visibly flustered.

"Sure, sure. All I can say is: I haven't had this much fun since . . . . Damn, I don't think I've ever had this much fun."

Jacob stood up from the table, a frown on his face.

"Now Jacob, hold on a minute. Rachel and I have already discussed Paul's living situation." He glanced at Paul. "You can stay, Paul—as long as you pull your weight. You can call me Dad too if you'd like. I'm only asking that you and Rachel be safe and responsible. I wouldn't be this lenient if you two hadn't imprinted."

Jacob was left with his mouth hanging open. "What? I can't believe this conversation. Did I hear you right?" He shook his head and blinked several times. "I'm obviously outnumbered; I'm going to go see Bells. But I want to talk to Paul before I leave."

He took me aside and came straight to the point, while running his hand nervously through his hair. "Okay, Paul, you win, but I'm begging you—please—no loud moaning or screaming while you're _having_ _dessert_. I can't stand the thought of you two . . . well, you know . . . . Is that understood?"

I couldn't help the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. "Sure Jake, I get it. I'll keep it down, but you better talk to your sister. She _was_ a little loud this morning. Maybe you should buy yourself some earplugs."

Jacob put up his hand in an attempt to stop any more comments from me. "I don't want to hear another thing about you and my sister. I think I'm gonna be sick again!"

Chelle chimed in, gesturing to her brother. "Jacob, on your way back from Bella's could you pick up Paul's clothes for him? We'll get the rest of his stuff tomorrow."

Jacob raced out the door, looking a little green. I surprised myself; I actually laughed—out loud.

* * *

><p>It's a good thing Chelle asked me to stay, because I honestly didn't think I could keep myself away from her. I would have been climbing in her window at 2 A.M., if not sooner. Jacob's description of her as being dessert was right on. One taste—that's all it took—and I was begging for more. I couldn't seem to get enough of her. She was a human confection, and I was developing an insatiable sweet tooth. Maybe I should've left a spoon in my pillowcase—a really big spoon! I laughed at the thought. To say I was ravenous was an understatement.<p>

Despite the fact that I probably had the best sleep in ages this afternoon, I was anxious to hit the sack early tonight. I was ready to climb in beside Chelle even if it was just to feel her heart beating next to me. Who was I kidding? I was hoping for an encore of today's little escapade, and she did not deny me. I was up for the job; I felt like I could keep going all night long.

When morning dawned, I woke up to find Chelle with her head cradled on my shoulder. Her hand was resting on my stomach, and her silky chestnut hair splayed out over my chest. I almost fell to pieces all over again. I relished the intimate position and didn't want to move a muscle. It was such a comforting feeling to wake up with my love lying beside me. I would never—ever, be able to sleep alone again.

As time went on, my ache for her didn't diminish one little bit. Every night with her in my arms was a cause for celebration, and man, did I ever celebrate.

And as for Chelle, she pretty much kept me occupied as well. Good thing I had loads of wolf stamina. She really put me through the paces. A lesser man would have crumbled under the pressure.

Poor Jacob, he did eventually have to buy those ear plugs—the expensive ones that drummers use.

* * *

><p>Pack business went pretty well. I kept my temper in check and the other members began to notice. There were even some rumors that I had been abducted by aliens, and a pod person had taken my place. I didn't mind; I laughed along with them, which only added fuel to their suspicions.<p>

One day, Quil finally asked me, "What happened to the Paul who was always flying off the handle, and snarling at everyone?"

I answered truthfully. "He's gone. He was converted by the love of a good woman. He lay down his heart and surrendered willingly. Nothing can ever bring him back. And you know what? I don't miss him a bit—do you?"

I was answered with a resounding, "No!" Then Quil asked, "Do you think there's a good woman out there for me?"

"Sure, Quil, and when you find her, tell her that Paul sent you." With a twinkle in my eye, I blurted out, "I'd love to see how your conversion turns out!"

* * *

><p>AN: I wanted to explore the reasons behind Paul's explosive temper, and this is what I came up with. I hope that it's completely plausible. If you agree, give me your thoughts—or even if you don't.

This entry won Best Use of Song in the 80's Power Ballad Contest. 10/11


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